WARNING: Graphic Content
From the Eyes of a Seer
~In Madness Blooms~
“Come in, King Kilian. Linger no more,” the Seer spoke without turning her head. She knew who approached, though she could not see him, by the energy that flowed from his body. The scars on her face danced in anticipation whenever the king drew near. It had been well over a decade since the mad King plucked her from her mother’s arms and ceremoniously gave her the Vision. She could still feel the red hot pokers digging into her flesh, pushing her eyes from their sockets. The agony never left her.
“How, child, do you forever know it is me?” Killian’s curious tone grated at her.
“You kindly gave me the Vision, remember? From that, my senses have grown beyond measure. I now walk hand-in-hand with the gods. They guide me through the darkness.” Angry as she felt, she couldn’t deny her ability. She truly saw into the future.
Killian circled the room, stopping to fidget with some dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. He needed the time to adjust his vision to the darkness of the Seer’s quarters. She had no use for windows or light, and no reason to appease anyone from the kingdom. “I have come to speak with you about moving from this dank hole and up into the castle with me. You’d be much more comfortable there.”
“Thank you, kind King, but you know my answer will never change. I cannot see through all of the light and chaos filling the walls of your home. I will become truly blind, and lost beyond measure. Not even the gods would be able to save me then. Please, leave me be. I am at one with the lands here.”
“As you will. May I?” Kilian pointed to the decrepit chair opposite the Seer. “My apologies. I am—“
“Yes, you may sit.” The Seer stroked her claw-shaped hand with what usable fingers she had left. Rocking gently, she braced herself, clutching the edge of the table. The king lowered himself into the chair and a wave of visions rolled through her, stifling the air in her lungs. The edges of her mouth frothed slightly as her body convulsed, shaking uncontrollably. It hurt like hell, but his dark energy needed to crawl through her so she could translate it then send it back to him, where it belonged. “Give it to me,” she screeched, fighting through the spasms. “N-now!”
The king reached into a leather satchel and pulled out a small, dripping organ. He quickly placed it in her crippled hand. When the heart of the dead infant touched her skin, she flew backwards, falling from her chair and crashing down to the ground. An unsettling silence curtained the room.
“Hallie? Are you still of this world?” the king asked, referring to The Seer by her birth name. He’d never witnessed her lose consciousness before and this troubled him. It was well known that killing a Seer brought with it an inescapable curse for the man responsible. “Hallie! Wake up,” he demanded, jumping to his feet.
From the dust, Hallie rose, and instantaneously he stared into her mutilated face. Where once sat eyes, gnarly scars remained. The king recoiled.
“Hallie… does… not… live here,” the Seer whispered, standing nose to nose with Kalian. “You killed her many moons ago, didn’t you, kind King?” She lifted her hand to his face and placed the bloody little heart to his lips. “Eat it.”
Shaking, Kilian opened his mouth, allowing her to push it between his teeth, the metallic taste brushed his palate, stimulating his taste buds. He bit down, chewing it just enough so he could swallow it. Of all the deprived things he’d done in his life, this took the cake. It took every ounce of his being not to regurgitate his breakfast all over the Seer, the table, and the ground on which he stood.
“All of it,” she said, now smiling. Her plump lips were the only indication she had, at one point, been of this world; human.
In one gulp, Kilian took down the heart. The Seer lifted her clawed fingers passed his mouth and to his forehead, painting a stripe across it with remaining blood. “Now sit,” she pointed to the chair. Her knotted, once-blond-hair spilled from the hood of her cloak. “Hear me, King Kilian, and never ask this of me again. One child died at your hands and from this black magic a prophecy was born.”
Kilian sat in silence, nodding, his black hair bobbing up and down.
“Seven babes you will hold as your own, and seven babes you will release into all the different corners of this retched world. Far from your clutches, they will grow. A slave, a savage, a drunk, a warrior, a spider, a priest, and finally, a cripple. Only one will return to you the true heir. This is the path the chosen ones have gifted to you, King Kilian.”
“Seven babes, you say?” Kilian’s memory flashed to the seven women who all claimed he’d impregnated them one drunkenly debauched evening, several moon cycles ago.
“Mmmm,” she hummed, “seven babes from seven different wombs. Your choices have sealed your fate, dear king of mine.”
“All to be released into the world, far from my clutches?” Kilian’s whitened face revealed his true feelings, no matter how much he struggled to mask them.
“To all the different corners, yes. Are these not the true reflections of your soul, King Kilian?” She ran her tongue over her beautiful lips, a notion of her supressed humanity. The tip of her tongue met the bumped out flesh of a scar that travelled from one corner of her face to the next, jarring her back to the reality of her curse.
“That’s enough for today, Seer.” The king needed to leave, in truth, but refused to show weakness in her presence, in the presence of his gods.
Without a word, the Seer waved her hand and the door cracked open, a small gust of wind making its way inside the room. Kilian stood to leave.
“Here,” he said, wrapping a lock of hair around her curled fingers. “Your requested payment.”
Hallie grasped the hair, rubbing her thumb over the strands. “Thank you,” she muttered through a tight throat. With no tears to fall, she refused to fall victim to her emotions. “See yourself out, will you?”
Kilian slid out the door, into the alley. He never once looked back. He never once stopped. Kilian knew what he must do next.
To be continued…
© 2016, Anisa Claire. All rights reserved.
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